Horror

The Night Owl
I stand in front of a white sheet draped over a shapely figure displayed on the embalming slab. The chill of the morgue runs up my spine as the mortician removes the sheet. As the cover is pulled away, I recognize the face of the deceased immediately. Her auburn hair caresses the fair skin along her high cheekbones. Her lush lips are still covered by the ruby rouge lipstick that she had left on my collar. Her perfume pierces the stench of formaldehyde bringing me back to the evening when her vivacious silhouette filled my doorway.
By Jericho Osborne4 years ago in Fiction
The Babysitter's Path
I can pinpoint the exact day my life went to hell. It was a Friday night and I was pissed. Mom and dad had decided to go out for the evening and instead of letting their teenage daughter watch her siblings they hired a babysitter. This babysitter thought she was hot shit too. She walked in about ten minutes before six. She had dirty blonde hair tied up into a messy bun, a pair of name brand blue jeans, a gray hoodie, and enough makeup on her face to make a clown jealous. To make matters worse, she was only two years older than me and sat across from me in study hall. Like, what the hell? Did they want me to be the loser of South High? Why did I even need a babysitter? I was fifteen, practically an adult, and my parents had the audacity to hire someone to watch me!? I didn’t complain though. No. That would just give my parents an excuse to do it again. Instead, I put a smile on my face, walked up to Olivia, and said,
By Josh Ripperger4 years ago in Fiction
The Willing Wear Black
The roar of the pistol was deafening and the kick knocked it from my hand. The Barn Owl let out a startled screech and flew up with a flurry of feathers. Now here I stood looking at blood leaking out onto the ground. A death I had never intended to cause. But I couldn't submit to him. I had to make him stop. I had to get away. My head swam with the details of the hours leading up to this moment.
By Pam Reeder4 years ago in Fiction
The owl of the cold night
It’s two o’clock in the morning. The early risers head to work as they usually do. The moon is still behind the transparent clouds and the air is still biting the bare skin of those who refuse to cover. Their pale, discoloring skin from the cold blends into the night. The motionless atmosphere slowly begins to form into a venomous texture filling our lungs, our brains, and our senses. The ache in our veins isn’t tempting us to fall sideways off the cliff our home is built on, but the night owl on the gleaming branch stares intently at me, coaxing our minds with honeyed words to fall to our end. Its beak slightly opens, baring the teeth that look horrifyingly human-like. Monstrous teeth that threaten my sanity begin to get closer before the owl, the evil suffusing the atmosphere with its venomous breath, looms over my frozen body, chuckling darkly.
By Thick Butterflies4 years ago in Fiction
What Happened Here
It perched on the roof, peering at him with intent and wary eyes. Its gaze so sharp and predatory, that he felt his very soul shrink within himself. He was its prey, skittering helplessly through the grass as it pursued, talons outstretched, ready to shred. To tear. To kill. Its eyes told him it knew. An all-seeing being sent as his divine judgment, perhaps. An eye from above to count each tremor of fear and every hesitant step. Despite all his instincts and nerves twitching within him and preparing to run from what he knew lay ahead, he trekked cautiously toward the dilapidated house and the knowing barn owl that watched from above.
By Bianca Jeanette4 years ago in Fiction
Terri
The first time someone tried to eat me, it was a middle-aged woman. We were walking from opposite ends of some town we both just happened to be drifting through. Up until then, the other survivors I’d passed slid by like oil across water. What was there to say? The world was over. We’d fucked up. But as the months went on, and food got harder to come by, something started to stick. This time it stuck. She looked at me like an animal, a predator, and the prey in me knew just what she wanted.
By Adrian Herrera4 years ago in Fiction
Come Away, Come Away
There once was a boy named Alexander, who lived in a farmhouse beyond the city limits. Where the streets of asphalt gave way to the dusty gravel roads of country living. His family farmed a small plot of land, barely making enough money to survive to the next harvest. His father, Isaac, was a man who believed that he deserved more than his station allowed him to achieve. Isaac dealt with this problem by searching for his fortune at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. On his better days, Isaac would be found passed out on the couch, with the warm glow of the CRT television softly dancing on the coarse stubble of his drunken face, his black hair resting over his closed bloodshot eyes. On his worst days, Isaac would be storming the house, looking for someone to take his anger at the world out on someone smaller than himself. That person was Alexander.
By Zachary Archer4 years ago in Fiction
Mummy's Boy
The word was comming to the end. The world as we knew it. “Barn Owl” was born as Mason Mynch in cold, windy northern parts of England. Somewhere in between the UK’s two crappiest towns–Huddersfield and Bradford. His father, David, was a coal miner. David back then was one of the most hardworking members of this small coal miner’s community.
By Oberon Von Phillipsdorf4 years ago in Fiction
The Ficus Tree
Oh, no. The alarm clock. Ya...? Cómo pasó? Qué dolor de cabeza tengo. God knows how I will be able to get something done in that garden, later. I definitely drank too much, last night. Pero qué fiesta, para mi princesa. The best niece an uncle could possibly ask for. I love her so much! How can she already be fifteen years old?! Quince años… Time flies… The day Mariana put her in my arms for the first time, at the hospital, I couldn’t believe it. She was such a little nugget. Sure, Mariana wasn’t ready, and that cabrón… Ahi, I don’t wanna even think about him. But we made it here, Mariana y Miguél, Miguél y Mariana, los hermanitos, twins and best friends, always together. And God blessed us with Susanita, and yesterday she was shining in her quinceañera dress! I can’t stop thinking about it… Qué benedición! Oh, el cafécito… What a headache. I should probably take an Advil… Or two. Or even more.
By Milena Anfosso4 years ago in Fiction
Last Light
The night is thick with darkness. Nothing is illuminated by stars or lunation. It all just hangs in the density of its location. Senses are the only thing that helps you navigate seclusion’s landscape. Out here in the wilderness, no one can hear you scream. You exist for existence purpose alone. From time to time, she wonders what hers ever was or is.
By Glory Anna4 years ago in Fiction
The Devil's Denial
An eerie metronome could be heard as Raven opened the passenger door to Meghan’s antique Toyota Corolla. Raven entered swiftly, slammed the door shut behind her and the wheels of the vehicle began to rotate. And the two young women began their journey into the night.
By Kevin Rejouis4 years ago in Fiction
Untold
It was chilly outside, the wind furiously driven as if it carried the untold mystery. Another sleazy hooker laid silently on the autopsy table. Detective Kevin Taylor glanced up to that wall clock, then checked his watch for the twenty-seventh time. Every dead body brought back that same thought, “Could my marriage of lasted if I accepted that security position?” Lawyers, divorce, and the expense stressed him to the point of seeing a shrink for a while. But, oh, his love for his wife never parted. With a leave of absence for three months and Detective Taylor was one to fear upon his return. No one in law enforcement dared joke with him. His weight loss exceeded eighty-five pounds; even though his height was close to six feet, he still carried his weight well. Debbie, his ex-wife, didn't wear make-up or dressed -up much. Nature and keeping things healthy and natural were her style, which he loved about her. A natural redhead, born and raised in the heart of Chicago. She never wanted to move away, no matter how he tried when the marriage began falling apart; yeah, those late nights investigating, murders, shootings, and searching for the bad guys had a lot to do with it.
By Marsha L Ceniceros4 years ago in Fiction